Lakeshore Sculpture Exhibit

After seeing "You Can't Keep a Down Man Good" I went looking for more of the pieces featured in the Lakeshore Sculpture Exhibit (LSE). I found a few, most of them located on former sites of Lincoln Park Community Art Initiative (LPCAI) public sculpture contest winners. That initiative, begun by 43rd Ward Alderman Vi Daley, lasted about 5 years, from 2002-2006, and exhibited work of 10 artists per year, with a number of repeat exhibitors. Some of the sculptures from the LPCAI are still installed, including this "Renaissance Man" at Burton and Wells by Boban Ilic from the 2003 exhibit. Many of the remaining LPCAI sculptures have been replaced recently by sculptures in the LSE, like this "Water" by Michael Young, sponsored by the Old-Town Triangle Association near Clark and Wisconsin St. at the edge of the park. It's a brushed aluminum sculpture of intertwined flat strips in a curved configuration about 9 feet tall. It resembles the surrounding trees more than it does water, and even calls to mind the way wind might move through gaps in the branches. I'm not sure why it is titled "Water" or why it is placed in this particular place. Many of the LSE sculptures seem plopped down on their respective sites without consideration of the characteristics of the exact location. "Moment" by Thomas Scharff at the corner of Lincoln and Fullerton and "Abduction" by Ron Gard at Wells and Burton are examples of this plop art problem as well. The artists didn't know where/if their sculptures would be displayed when they made them. When the site locations for groups of sculptures are chosen by a contest jury, neighborhood association or alderman's committee it can present problems for the way each sculpture interacts with its space, and the way the public interacts (or doesn't) with a sculpture. Then again, it could make for a more interesting public art, to open up the process (concept> construction> selection> installation> reception) to the public. If the public can actually participate at any point in this process, the sculpture can be more meaningful to that particular public. However, in the case of the LSE this effective perpetuation of the Modernist "plop art" model by parties more interested in conveying a neighborhood's wealth through culture than in truly engaging a public in meaningful art is counterproductive to an effective urban public sculpture, distilling out as it does anything that could potentially be deemed controversial, offensive, dangerous, ugly, or even thought-provoking. What is the purpose of putting these studio sculptures out into the public arena? Is there a way to contextualize a sculpture post-production into an urban environment? Is site-specificity important to our city's neighborhoods, or are chambers of commerce and aldermanic offices more concerned with simply having art displayed IN their districts than having art made FOR their people?

You Can't Keep a Down Man Good

I had a little trouble finding this Lincoln Park sculpture near the corner of Lincoln Park West and Clark St. It's nestled into a little grassy knoll just off the street, with tall trees on three sides. The recent street construction made the sculpture all but invisible, flanked on the only open side as it was by orange barriers and big yellow earth movers. In fact, the orange metal sculpture looked like part of the construction activity: a spare crane arm or piece of metal waiting to be installed underground. In fact, it is but part of a much larger sculpture exhibition. From the blue plaque on the concrete base, I learned it is one of twenty public sculptures on display as part of the Lakeshore Sculpture Exhibit (LSE) sponsored by the Mid-North Neighborhood Association. All the sculptures will be on sale at the conclusion of the exhibition in spring of 2009. Should I assume that money goes back to the private sources from which the funding came? I'll show you more of this exhibition in next week's entry.
A close inspection of the piece found the title inscribed on the base of the metal, "You Can't Keep a Down Man Good." The reversed maxim has an ominous, vaguely threatening implication, especially coming from what by name seems to be a Native American artist. Is Ted Sitting Crow Garner saying that the "Down Man" (oppressed? depressed?) will by necessity (or will) resort to "Bad" (violent? corrupt? self-destructive?) behavior? And what does the orange metal machine-arm-like structure have to do with his statement? Should the rich and the white be wary of the tools of the construction trade as potential instruments of their demise? Will the luxury living units along Chicago's north lakeshore fall to the malicious intent of a bulldozer or a crane, or will their homes, landscaping, roads and signs just continue to be immaculately improved year after year by members of the working class struggling to feed their families? Tell will time.

Tomb Fragments Towers

After learning about the deathly history of south Lincoln Park through the Hidden Truths project, I started looking more closely at the ground, the roads, the trees, and the people in the park. I imagined all sorts of possible resting (and restive) places for bygone Chicagoans. Along one path near N. Clark St. and Wisconsin St. I saw a scattered assortment of very old fragments of stone and concrete. Some still had remnants of decorative carvings, possibly part of a cornice or other adornment to a tomb or monument long since crumbled and forgotten. I wondered if these had just been dug up in a recent lawn improvement or path repaving, or if they had simply been sitting there where I found them for a hundred and fifty years. I wondered how many people like me had passed by them...if any of those people could have been related to the people whose monument these fragments once were. To whom do those rocks belong? I circled back by the rocks on my way home, and on an impulse, stacked them up in two towers, making new memorials to the unknown, unknowable past they lived. The lawn suddenly looked different. It was more peaceful, more settled. I hope more people find meaning now in the short stacks of old rocks as they walk around, breathing in the crisp air of autumn, alive and un-haunted by the ghosts of Lincoln Park. For now.